Steele v Grey
by Inks Inc
Summary: The Steele Corporation takes on Grey Enterprises Holdings in a commercial battle that sets Washington on edge. COMPLETED.
1. Chapter 1

**_Yale Summa Cum Laude takes Washington by Storm:_**

The swift and jaw dropping success of _The Steele Corporation_ has all eyes and ears in Washington on its brain child, Miss Anastasia Steele. After matriculating from High School three years early and graduating top of her postgraduate class, also early, from Yale Business School, the intellectually gifted young entrepreneur has burst onto the commercial scene. Her exuberance has not been witnessed since the inception of _Grey Enterprise Holdings_ , the proud fiefdom of Mr Christian Grey, who currently dominates the telecommunications market and represents Miss Steele's only real competition. Academic commentary suggests that given the size and scale of both TSC and GEH, there's only enough room for one kid on the block. At the tender age of twenty-one, Miss Steele has the benefit of supreme youth on her side.

But at the still tender age of twenty-six, Mr Grey has the slight advantage of experience and all the connections that go with it. With every passing day, TSC attacks the many fingers that GEH holds in so many different pies. Speculation is rife that a heated meeting between the two millennial moguls took place behind closed doors in recent days. Whispers suggest that Mr Grey sought an agreement to acquire Miss Steele's booming business for a healthier than healthy price. Given that it was just yesterday that saw TSC announcing plans for expansion into the green energy movement, it's safe to say that Mr Grey's offer was not accepted. A battle for dominance now seems inevitable. Regardless of who emerges victorious, it's clear to see that GEH's days of monopolising are rapidly coming under fire.

TSC, although embryonic, clearly means business.

Stay tuned as the battle for Washington unfolds.

No matter how much he stared and glared, it didn't change. The ink still shone up at him, revealing the same damned message. Taylor hovered with a rare nervousness at the door, waiting for instruction. Burning a crater in the newspaper with his eyes, Christian didn't even appear to be breathing. There were no _whispers,_ there was no _speculation._ The only people who knew that he and that _girl_ were to have a meeting, was he and that girl. Which means she tipped off the paper.

Which meant that she never intended to even consider his offer. Which meant that she had played him for a write-up she could pretend to be above and would prioritise her over him in the public eye. Everyone loves an underdog. And when that underdog has the IQ of your average astronaut, a very pretty face and a gracious manner, all bets are in her corner.

He seethed as his fingers drummed loudly against the table.

He had been willing, graciously, to buy her out.

Like he generally did with all his inconveniences.

And she had used that generosity to manipulate her own image at the expense of his. Rereading the article, he closed his eyes. Channelled his anger into productive, calculated thinking. She was a child. A foetus. Chronologically, he may be only a few years older than her, but mentally, they weren't of the same generation. She was picking a fight with someone she couldn't possibly conquer nor appreciate the consequences that were coming down the line for her. True, she had in the space of a single year given birth to and raised a demon of a business, but that was mere beginners luck.

And beginners luck always ran out.

His luck was a different breed. He made it. Crafted it. Toiled and sweated over it and he wasn't about to have it overshadowed by some overgrown High Schooler with an Ivy league degree. He rolled his eyes. Yale? He'd rather continue to be a _Harvard_ drop out than a Yale graduate. Talk about second-rate. Just another modicum of her inferiority that shone like a spotlight next to his superiority. She may have studied business, but he _was_ business. Rising from the breakfast table, smoothing his tie, he beckoned to Taylor.

"Sir?"

Handing him the newspaper, Christian's voice bled with scheming anger.

"Throw this rag in the trash, cancel my subscription with immediate effect, and bring the car around. We need to get to the airport with enough time to factor in an early lunch with the people from the European division. Yes?"

Privately praying for the well-being of Miss Anastasia Steele, Taylor nodded.

"Right away, Sir."

Far across town and in the first of what would be her many apartments, Ana Steele drank her morning coffee with a smile on her face that couldn't be dampened. Rereading her morning newspaper, her grin grew and grew. It had been worth suffering through a pointless meeting with that arrogant, cold and downright serpentine Christian Grey to wrangle a write-up that made her sound like a wonderchild. The all-American dream. Picturing the look on Grey's face, she was busily smiling to herself when Gideon, her new driver, melted into the doorway and smiled politely at her.

"Good morning, Miss Steele. Shall I bring the car around?"

Swallowing her last mouthful of cereal, she nodded pleasantly and rose with grace. Dressed in a razor sharp trouser suit that accentuated her tall, slender frame, she commanded respect from her mere presence. Dark hair was pulled tightly back from a youthful and pretty face, with two or three loose locks to emphasise her intelligent eyes. She was beautiful and she knew it, though she didn't show it. For that would defeat the purpose of knowing it.

Reading her schedule on her blackberry as she swept along behind Gideon, she grinned when an update popped up that she had been cautiously expecting. Slipping into the back of her very first town car, she relished the feel of the genuine leather. She was quite sure she would never tire of it, no matter how many riches she was destined to acquire. Or wrest from the hands of overgrown boys that thought themselves better than the world.

"Where to, Miss Steele?"

Leaning back against the luxurious seat, she smiled slowly up at the roof.

"To the airport, Gideon. Quick as you can please. There's an arrival on the way that needs to be shall we say, _intercepted,_ for the greater good. _"_

…..

A/N: Had this one rattling around my mind for a while and after finishing Yes, Professor and FSOG: Rewritten, I now have the time to write it. Probably be a longer multi-chaptered one! Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! PS: To any Yale students or alumni, I mean absolutely no offence. Just needed to accentuate Christian's arrogance!

Inks x

…


	2. Chapter 2

A billionaire scorned is a billionaire warned.

Usually calm and composed, Christian Grey was a man possessed as he ranted and raved in the back of the town car. Jason sent up a silent prayer as he drove silently for whomever was bearing the brunt of his spitting rage. Recalling the look on the young man's face as the girl behind the arrivals desk had told him his investor had been picked up by a Miss Steele, Taylor pursed his lips.

That girl was playing with fire.

A chemically accelerated, oxygen rich, flame of fury.

She was going to get burned. It was only a matter of time.

Sitting pretty in the VIP lounge of Washington's most select hotel, Miss Steele had no such qualms for her safety. Sipping an espresso and judging the man in front of her through shrewd eyes, victory was on the tip of her tongue. With Ian Hanson's connections in the green energy movement and his intercontinental investment portfolio, he was the cream of the crop.

And she'd just snatched him right from Christian Grey's harvest.

"Do we have an accord, Miss Steele?"

Smiling at the subtly sexist man with delicately rogue lips, she pretended to hesitate for just the right amount of time. Her little sigh was pitch-perfect and she watched with silent superiority when his eyes popped with concern. Men like Ian Hanson were always looking for a damsel in distress to stroke their ego.

"It certainly looks seamless on paper, Mr Hanson. Your five-year plan is solid and certainly coexists with ethos of The Steele Corporation. Your CSR is great. The figures are realistic and the expansion plan fits with my plans to grow internationally. There's just one problem and I'm not sure whether or not it can be overcome."

Ian arched a brow.

"Problem? I saw no problem when I viewed the figures."

"It's not really a mathematical issue. It's more of a personnel concern. You see Mr Hanson, I am building The Steele Corporation off the back of my own blood, sweat and tears. I do not wish to intertwine my efforts with those whom do not share my vision. I know that you were originally here to see Mr Christian Grey. He's a very talented man and I do not doubt his drive or passion, but the ethos of Grey Enterprises Holdings is very different from The Steele Corporation. It would be remiss of me to allow you to take away the idea that I would be willing to split this deal into three further down the line."

Silence descended over the private booth.

"Mr Grey has considerably more to offer me than you do, Miss Steele," Ian responded quietly, "Granted, I took this meeting at the expense of the appointment I held with him because I find your rise to success intriguing, but he _is_ in a superior position. If you're looking for exclusivity of contract, then I'm afraid you're going to need to up the ante. Considerably. What you're proposing is strong, yes, but if we're cutting GEH out of the picture on the back of it, it needs to be stronger. Much stronger."

A careful look of distraught surprise coloured her face. Internally, she was serene and peaceable. Ian's reaction was exactly what she'd predicted.

"What are you proposing, Mr Hanson?"

"I'm proposing that, in order to remove GEH from the picture, we need what it would have brought to the table. Mr Grey has three or four investors lined up over the next three years to inject capitol into the construction of windmills and hydroelectric power plants. Without those investors it is unlikely that The Steele Corporation, even with my investment, will come close to the scale of expansion that is needed."

She raised a brow.

"So, if I were to secure these investors by convincing them to back me instead of Mr Grey, you would be willing to sign a deal of exclusivity with The Steele Corporation excluding GEH in any and all circumstances?"

Ian didn't hesitate.

"I would be more than willing, yes. All in all, The Steele Corporation is the better fit for my company. With all due respect however, Miss Steele, I cannot see you dragging those investors away from GEH. You are a very ambitious and industrious young lady, but the investors Mr Grey has secured are very conservative. They do not like the unknown and they do not like change."

Smiling sweetly, she reached into her attaché and drew out a sheaf of legal documents. The meeting couldn't have been going any better than if they were reading from a script of her hand. Pushing the stack over to a wide-eyed Ian, she chose her next words carefully.

"Great minds think alike, Mr Hanson. I have been in contact with those investors. All four of them. And after some admittedly tense deliberations, they have agreed to come on board with The Steele Corporation on one condition. That you and Hanson Industries come on board, also. With that five-pronged investment, your returns would be astronomical and the rise of The Steele Corporation would be unparalled."

Ian's mouth fell open.

"You convinced _Harold Abrams_ and the rest to jump ship? _How?"_

Her smile was modest. A perfected deflection

"I have my ways, Mr Hanson. I appreciate that this is a surprise to you but this deal is extraordinarily time sensitive. An agreement today would be most beneficial. The lawyers have been over every inch of every document, and they're tighter than tight. Harold and Co are waiting on my word of your decision. They're ready to sign and this deal can be in play by this evening depending on your answer."

Ian's eyes grew saucer-like.

"Mr Grey remains oblivious as to this series of events?"

Ana's smile was sweeter than sweet.

"Mr Grey is oblivious to very little. I am quite sure he'll cope."

After a few seconds of hesitation, a greedy smile spread across Ian's pudgy face. His return under the agreement with The Steele Corporation was substantially healthier than the return under GEH. Money was money, and there was a certain _allure_ about the enigmatic Miss Steele. He signed the contract with a flourish and enjoyed her company for longer than she would have liked, before departing for the airport once more. The moment he was out the door, Ana was on the phone to the other four investors and a deal was clinched.

Settling back in front of the hotel's roaring fire place, the phone call didn't surprise her.

"Steele."

His voice was a soft, silky hiss.

"Do you really think this is going to fly, Miss Steele? Do you _honestly_ think I'm going to sit back whilst you sneak like a little rodent into my company and steal my investors? Here's a business lesson that they didn't teach you in your second-rate school. You _never_ pick a fight with the likes of me. No matter how fast your ride to the top is."

Sipping her second espresso, Ana enjoyed the flickering flames.

"Good morning, Mr Grey. How nice to hear from you again. Did you by any chance happen to catch today's newspaper? There is a very interesting article in there. I read it over breakfast and I found it to be most illuminating."

Venom trickled through the receiver.

"I am giving you this one last chance," he bit out, "Just the one. You call back Abrams and the rest of them and you kill this deal. You keep to your mid-level tier and stay out of the deep end. You don't belong. You do not belong in the arena with me, Miss Steele. You do not have commercial etiquette, you do not have experience and you do not have the spine to go up against me. So be a clever little girl, and take this exit. It's your last chance."

Her tinkle of laughter bled with confidence.

"Such arrogance is truly unbecoming, Mr Grey. A pretty face can only hide so much, remember that. Now, I'd like to say there's enough room for the both of us, but we both know there isn't. And I know you were here first, but I'm a woman who gets what she wants. Even if someone else already has it. I want Washington, Mr Grey. As my base. As my home. And I'm going to take it from you. That can either come about with very little damage to your organisation, or I can crush GEH like the insignificant little bug it is. It's entirely your choice. You should take the time to think it through. Thoroughly."

An astonished, icy silence breezed through the line.

"Miss Steele, be wise and do not push me. You will not like the consequences. You are a mere academic businesswoman. You are no more than a child. You are in no position to make threats. The Steele Corporation is nothing more than a snivelling inconvenience compared to Grey Enterprises Holdings. I am giving you this one opportunity to escape with your treehouse company intact. Do not take it, and GEH will swallow your sandcastle in one bite."

She smiled happily at the waiter who delivered her scone.

"Hate to cut this riveting conversation short, Mr Grey, but I do need my mid-morning snack. Energy levels are so important to a successful day of conducting business, don't you think? Speaking of which, those four investor imbeciles are my imbeciles now. You should have made them feel valued, integral. You should have catered to their every need, rose above your own arrogance. I am never killing this deal. Never. Commitment is one of the many lessons I learned at my _second-rate school._ Perhaps you could take a night course? At a nice junior college?"

His voice burned with a terrifyingly glacial anger.

"I am a particular kind of bastard, Miss Steele. I will find one hundred different ways to ruin your business, your reputation and your life. I will laugh my way through every single one. You will never survive a war with me. You do not know _how_ to go to war with me. You got the investors, clever girl. Keep them. I am _Christian Grey._ There will be more investors. Many more. You will never break through into the green energy movement. I have that niche wrapped up tighter than the virginity you still cling to."

She smirked at that.

If only he knew.

"I have given you fair warning. You wanted a war, Miss Steele? Then round up your four investors, your second-rate degree and your youthful good looks. I'll give you a war. Thankfully, you're still young enough to go crying back to mommy and daddy when everything burns around you. I'm sure they'll have their arms opened wide for their bright-eyed wonderchild."

Leaning back in her plush chair, her face split into a wide grin.

"I'll see you around, Mr Grey. I'm sure it'll be a thrilling ride."

….

TBC

….


	3. Chapter 3

Taylor was rarely perturbed, seldom frazzled, and never afraid.

But as he stood in front of a vein throbbing, pulse popping Christian Grey, he was edging precariously close to shitting his pants. Was it his fault that there was nothing incriminating to be found on the ball breaking Miss Steele? No. Was it his fault that the twenty-one-year-old woman was responsible for her own success, with no handouts from mommy or daddy? No.

Did Mr Grey care that it wasn't his fault?

Hell no.

"There has to be _something,_ Taylor. There must be fucking something. Even I had to get some help to get GEH up and off the ground. There's no way in hell that this infant just pulled The Steele Corporation out of her ass one morning. What kind of name is that, anyway? The fucking Steele Corporation? Is that the most imaginative thing she could come up with? Her own name? Does she have even one modicum of originality?"

Taylor bit down on his curing lips hard and fast.

What the hell was Grey Enterprises Holdings, then?

Wisely, he kept his mouth shut and gave a sympathetic nod.

"There has to be something, there's always something," Christian muttered behind his desk at Grey House. "Where did she get the start-up capital? You say she comes from a middle-class family, and middle-class families don't have that kind of venture capital in their fucking piggy banks. The money had to come from somewhere, from someone. You need to find out who and where and you need to find out before the close of business today."

Taylor could have wailed in despair.

"Mr Grey, with all due respect_"

"I already have respect, Taylor, what I need now are fucking answers."

"But there isn't_"

"Have the dossier on my desk by five. Dismissed."

Leaving the office with his mind full of alternative employment opportunities that he knew in his soul he wouldn't explore, Taylor was wearied. This Miss Steele was causing him nothing but insufferable grief and an insurmountable migraine. Though he often despaired of his young boss's inability to show any form of emotion, he was beginning to miss his cold and calm façade.

The man he had just left was nothing short of possessed.

Continuing to wrest in the grips of the devil in Taylor's absence, Christian stared moodily out at the Seattle skyline. He was royally pissed off. Thermonuclear level, pissed off. No one challenged him like that Ivy league brat did. No one schemed against him and stole from him like she did. No one threatened his supreme dominance and commercial brilliance like she did.

No one was as _daring_ as she was.

He would destroy her. That was a given. But the how was troublesome. Despite his insistences to Taylor, the complete lack of skeletons in Miss Steele's closet was problematic. She was, on face value, a wholesome American girl with a brain as big as her mouth. But that couldn't be. Because if that _were_ to be, it would mean that she was simply a better businessperson than him.

And that was impossible.

Drumming his long fingers on the side of his chair, he plotted deeply. Miss Steele was an irritating fly and the only way to deal with an irritating fly, was to kill them. Obviously, murder was a tad extreme. But only a tad. And thusly he had to be cleverer than ever before if he were to swat her down. Such was his white-hot rage that he didn't even think of swatting her in the playroom.

And she _was_ just his type.

Young, slender, brunette.

Extremely fuckable.

He had admired her when they first met. She was worthy of admiration, that couldn't be denied with her clear blue eyes and pretty face. But then she had started _talking_ and _scheming_ and he was instantly soured. It wasn't that he was threatened by her, or intelligent women in general. It wasn't that at all. It was her approach. Her brash fucking approach.

It was her high-heeled feet stomping all over his yard.

As he stared out from his castle in the sky, a cunning thought occurred to him. It was devious, despicable and downright debased. But it could work. And it could work in a way that would render Miss Steele nothing more than an unfortunate blip on the radar of his past. He had long since accepted that he was a devil with the face of an angel.

A beautiful, beautiful angel.

Women fawned over him, they blushed and blundered in front of him. Their eyes followed him, and their libidos lusted after him. There were no exceptions. If he were to waltz into a morgue, they would sit up on their cold, metal slabs and shake off the rigor mortis for him. He knew it. He knew it as he strode down a corridor and pretended not to see their pupils dilate and their tongues salivate.

Miss Steele was a hot-blooded woman.

She was no different to the norm. He had seen the way she had examined his borderline symmetrical features, his unusual eyes and his downright sensational hair. If there was truly nothing untoward to be found and subsequently leveraged, what other choice was there? She was gobbling up planning permission, she was befriending high-flying politicians and she was garnering the public's admiration. She was a threat. She could truly cause some appreciable damage. She was a danger to GEH, his baby, and like any parent, he had to protect his child at all costs.

Even if it meant bringing home a wicked stepmother.

He would woo her. He would seduce her. The cardinal rule of business was also the cardinal rule of life. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. She was a perilous risk to him out there in the wind, where he had no control. He needed to wield a degree of persuasiveness over her, to squash her. To do that, he needed to get close. The thoughts of her resistance didn't cross his mind. He was Christian Grey. He was the crème de la crème of Seattle's elite. But he still needed to do the unthinkable in order to win the war of her creation. He needed to do that which he had professed never, ever to do.

He needed to do hearts and flowers.

Temporarily.

….

TBC

…


	4. Chapter 4

His eyes narrowed and widened in a perverse harmony.

She sashayed into the uppity dining room as if she owned the place. People knew who she was, and she knew that people knew who she was. Waiters offered deferential nods of their heads and snuck sneak-peaks of her tight rear end as it gracefully wiggled away from them. The General Manager nearly careered head over heels to meet and greet the sensational Steele superstar, his hand lingering on hers for far too long. She handled it all with grace, with finesse.

It made his fucking blood boil.

She spied him as he sat at a prime table, and a devious twinkle sparked in her eyes. Disentangling herself from the greasy GM, she took her sweet time in crossing the room. A tight pencil skirt screamed the virtues of her hourglass figure and a pale pink blouse highlighted the flickering azure tones in her striking eyes. Her hair was delicately curled and cascaded around her shoulders, framing her angular, youthful face. Even to him, in the heyday of his rage, she was exquisite.

Brains and beauty.

His upper lip curled in ire. It was only his supreme acting skills that forced him to his feet in a gentlemanly manner and a false smile to his lips. Her fragrance was soft but discernible and she came to a graceful stop at her intended chair with an intelligent smile on her face. Her fingers splayed on the mahogany wood and she made no attempt to seat herself.

"Mr Grey. You were very cryptic on the phone and to be frank, my time is short. Unless you've invited me here to wave the white flag of surrender, I'm not entirely sure that we have anything to discuss and I was planning on spending this evening drafting up some very important investment plans."

He closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds.

She had _such_ a smart mouth.

He could cure her of that.

Permanently.

"Apologies for the cloak and dagger routine, Miss Steele, but the ends justify the means. I knew you would never agree to have dinner with me if I phrased the invitation as a social meeting, so I didn't script myself into a corner. Why don't you take a seat, so I can explain further?

His voice was smooth and honeyed.

His eyes were warm and smouldering.

His teeth were straight, white and glinting.

His greatest predatory strengths were being brought out like the big guns they were. He looked at her as though she were the most sugared of snacks in the candy store. He plastered subtle appreciation all over his face as she sceptically took a seat. A waiter melted to their side with immediacy and he waved a genial hand to her, dealer's choice. He hid a frown when she ordered nothing but bottled water with a side of lemon, but himself ordered the same, in the full knowledge that he had an evening meeting with Clark Pearson, the crème de la crème of investment bankers. He needed a cash cow, and Clark was his fillet mignon. Arching a brow at the expectant looking Miss Steele, her beauty irritated him.

"Lost your appetite?"

She smiled the smile that hid a multitude of sins.

"I don't dine with the competition, Mr Grey. I prefer the waters to remain unmuddied…I'm sure you understand."

"Please feel free to call me Christian."

She smiled a pleasant thanks to the returning waiter and sipped her water.

"Thank you for the invitation, Mr Grey."

He bit back the screaming retort that flew to his lips and managed a smooth smile in its stead. He had to woo this demon of a woman. He had to force her to fall under his spell. Usually, this presented not a single moment of consternation;women fell under his spell without any effort from his side of the table. But Miss Steele was no normal woman, she was a special breed and a thorn in his side. She was now a strategic project, a step-by-step takedown. And so he smiled, his most sultry smile, and inclined his head with humored grace.

"As you wish, Miss Steele."

A perfectly manicured brow slowly ascended in pointed question.

"Now that I'm seated and have suitable refreshments, perhaps you might tell me what it is I am doing here? I have no intention of dining with you, I don't believe we have any business to discuss and I'm sure you value your time as much as I value my own. So, what can I do for you this evening, Mr Grey?"

His face betrayed no hint of his thoughts.

But his mind was whirring.

Who _wouldn't_ want to dine with him? Everyone wanted to dine with him. Men and women alike, from pediatric to geriatric, no one was immune to him. Apart from this _maddening_ infant. Breathing deeply, he stroked the stem of his delicate glass and chose his next words with a composer's caution. He could feel her piercingly blue eyes upon him and her clean perfume was as pleasing as a summer's breeze.

"I am a direct man, in all things. I don't linger on the fence when I see something that I want. As a fellow businessperson, I am sure you appreciate the value of time. And you are right, I value my time as much as you value yours. So, I'll get right down to it."

She didn't bat an eyelid.

"You are a very attractive woman. A powerful and an intelligent woman. A triple threat, if you will. At first, I admit, I saw you as encroaching upon my territory and a problem to be solved, a situation to be managed. But I've been engaged in some personal growth recently, and I see now that my negative perceptions of you were merely a smokescreen for my true feelings."

He died a little inside.

A part of him drifted off into the spirit land of never return.

 _Feelings._

He just said the word _feelings._

Swallowing down the rattlesnake of poison, he forced himself to continue.

"I desire you. To speak in a language that we both appreciate, you are an entity I wish to acquire. Or merge, depending on the degree of your feminist ideals. And not to ring my own bell, but the dilation of your pupils and your micro expressions would indicate that _I_ am an entity that _you_ would like to acquire. Or merge, depending on the degree of your feminist ideals."

The tinkering of knives and forks filled the silence between them.

Her face was as impassive as the day he met her.

"That is both an interesting proposition and an interesting summation. I'll start with the summation, _the dilation of my pupils and my micro expressions_. Perhaps I have some kind of ocular disease, I'll check with my optician. And any micro expression that seems to express a desire for you, is most likely a twitch that I've had since childhood. I'll see my GP as soon as possible. As for your proposition… let's just say that Apple is _never_ going to merge with Samsung, if you know what I mean."

His mouth was in danger of dropping.

His eyes were in danger of bulging.

His dick was in danger of dying.

"Miss Steele, perhaps you don't understand what-"

"Oh, I think I understand perfectly, Mr Grey. You were up in your ivory tower, scowling like the wounded bear you are, plotting my fall from grace. A part of you is terrified that you cannot beat me in a fair commercial battle, and so, you thought to yourself… I'll wine and dine her, I'll romanticize her, I'll keep her close. Enemies are a dangerous thing when they are ten steps removed from you, wooing me into your bed would bring me nine steps closer, and give your hand a prime opportunity to sneak into my cookie jar."

She smirked.

"You are nowhere near as pretty as you think you are, Mr Grey."

In a way, he was relieved that he didn't have to carve his lips into a smile.

He genuinely thought they would splinter at the seams.

"I'm every bit as pretty as I think I am, Miss Steele, and you know it. Fine, congratulations, you got me. You're a royal pain in my ass and I'm willing to do a lot to sit comfortably. The Steele Corporation is an annoying gnat that needs squashing, and this dinner is a form of rolled up newspaper. But now that my cover is blown, let's get down to brass tacks. You were right when you said that this state was only big enough for one of us. I agree with you, but I do _not_ agree with which one of us is to remain. Without being trite, I was here first, and I have no intention of shutting up shop to make life easier for someone like you."

She grinned over the rim of her water glass.

"Someone like me? I don't think you've ever met someone like me."

"No," he snapped in agreement, "And for that, at least, I am grateful."

"I don't think you mean that, Mr Grey. I think you mean quite the opposite."

He glared.

"Do you wear your hair that curly to compensate for your alarmingly big head?"

"Do you wear your suit that way to compensate for your alarmingly small-"

A different waiter suddenly appeared out of nowhere and cleared his throat. The two moguls turned and stared, one in snarling irritation and one in serene indifference. Stuttering slightly under the onslaught of gray and blue, Joe the Waiter did his best to get his message across.

"Mr Grey, there is a lady here to see you and she is quite insistent."

His face darkened.

Hers brightened.

"Is this another of your acquisitions, Mr Grey?"

He shot her a look that made Joe frown and bit out his response.

"I am in the middle of something here, so tell whoever it is to call my office and schedule an appointment."

Before Joe could answer, said lady burst through the bonds of societal pleasantries and strode across the dining room with purpose emblazoned across her beautiful face. Valuing his job and his general wellbeing, Joe did the clever thing and took a hike. The side of the Steele v Grey table was open and defenseless as the slim, expensively dressed and impeccably groomed young woman screeched to a halt.

Anastasia's eyes flickered between the two.

The brunette's eyes never met hers; they were affixed to the floor.

Christian's eyes were burning her, flickering with smoky flames.

"What are you doing here?"

His voice was calm, level and controlled. Not an octave did he raise, or a syllable did he stretch. But Ana's astute ears caught the undercurrent of amazed anger under the public verbiage, and surprise colored her face at the surging flow of his river of rage.

"I needed to see you…"

His face clouded infinitesimally, the only visceral betrayal of his ire. Ana frowned at the young woman, her sentence seemed to end abruptly, like she was holding something back. The brunette's voice was low and demure, almost apologetic. She never looked up and her tall frame seemed to radiate a certain… conformity. She watched as Christian fished around in his pocket and extracted a hotel key card and held it out to the mystery woman, who accepted it without a word or a raised eye.

"I will see you shortly." It was a dismissal.

Clear as day.

She took it as such and without a word or glance, turned on her high heel and strode gracefully away from the table and out of the dining room. Her departure lingered over the table like a fine mist.

"Well, that was interesting."

He closed his eyes briefly, gathering his composure like a shield.

"That was disinteresting, what _is_ interesting, is the agreement we need to come to."

"And what agreement would that be?"

Slipping a hand inside his suit jacket pocket, he extracted a thick mania envelope. Sliding it across the table to her, he cocked a brow.

"This is a very generous offer inviting the sale of The Steele Corporation."

Her gaze took on a bored hue.

"We have already had this conversation, Mr Grey."

"We did," he agreed, "But this is a different version of our original discussion. You have a passion for business. I recognize that kind of drive in another because it's the same drive that founded GEH and pushed it to where it is today. You're talented, ok? I admit it. You've got an aptitude for commerce and The Steele Corporation is representative of that fact. Be that as it may, you are a threat that I no longercan tolerate. So, what I propose is this. I buy TSC, but you come on board in a senior management capacity at GEH. You still get the thrill of high stakes business, but with none of the risk, and a more than healthy salary to go with it."

Her fingers splayed upon the envelope as she scorched him with her gaze, her mind working at a blindingly fast pace, putting the pieces of a subtle puzzle together with the skill of a savant.

"That's an interesting offer, granted, but truly… I think the conversation we were _about_ to have, would be far more engaging. Certainly, it would give a much greater insight into the enigmatic CEO of GEH."

Steam poured from his nostrils as he battled to maintain his composure.

"And what conversation would that be, Miss Steele?"

She pushed the envelope back across the table with a cheerful grin on her face.

"The conversation about the fact that you're a Dominant, Mr Grey."


	5. Chapter 5

His world stopped spinning.

Her words were murmured under water, her lips were moving but her syllables were far, far away. His windpipe narrowed and narrowed until only the faintest whisper of oxygen wriggled in to sustain his life. The water he had just sipped turned to molten lava in his mouth, scalding his gums, precipitating oozing ulcers that sprang straight from his psyche to his physique. Her sweet smile didn't falter as his night and day collided into an apocalyptic nightmare he couldn't wake the hell up from.

But, a front is a front, and his had never let him down before.

He frowned in apparent and intense bewilderment.

"Dominant? As in… the dominant player in my field? I've held that mantle for many years. Since my acquisition of the two major players in the-"

"No, as in… exclusive and select clubs, even more exclusive and select _subs,_ and an insatiable desire to inflict pleasure and pain on someone whom you may or may not care for. Given your general demeanor, I'd guess the latter, and that you have a more… contractual relationship with those who service you. I'd bet the house that you have a set type, specific requirements, and that you cut anyone who fits that criteria loose the minute they get too close. That's the kind of Dominant I'm talking about, Mr Grey, the one you hide behind your public face and your tailored suits."

His throat splintered under the drought that besieged him.

His eyes were too dry to blink.

His fight or flight reflex was kicking in and it was kicking in hard.

Fight won.

"Are you saying that there is some kind of upper tier Subway out there? Members only? Please, tell me all about that because I'm an absolute _sucker_ for a smoked turkey, cheese and marinara sauce combo… spread out on a Hearty Italian six inch."

Her smirk wrinkled her eyes into blue pools of astute scepticism.

"And do you like your sauce whisked or whipped on your six inch?"

His glare forced his eyes into cold clouds of gray.

"You know, I think I'm tiring of this nonsensical conversation, Miss Steele. I appreciate that you're green and probably still sleep with your comfort blanket, but I am a busy man and if you're not going to accept my offer… I think we're done here."

She delicately squeezed a drop of lemon into her water and grinned happily.

"Au contraire, Mr Grey, I think we're just getting started."

He swallowed. Subtly, but he still swallowed.

"I am not interested in expounding on a subject of which I know nothing and-"

"There are precious few things of which you know nothing, and I would go as far as to say you're a certified expert in _this_ particular discussion. Come now, there's nothing to be embarrassed about… this is the twenty-first century, the sky's the limit. And to be quite honest, the fact that I'm sussing this out about you can't be _that_ much of a surprise. You dress to intimidate; your employees defer to you with an almost military respect and that pretty brunette couldn't look you in the eye. Now, she could just be shy... or she's not _allowed_ to look you in the eye. But what _really_ gave her away was the fact she had to bite her lip to stop the natural conclusion of her sentence slipping out…"

She leaned back with a shrewd look coloring her face.

"She said… _I needed to see you_ , but what she _really_ wanted to say, was… _I needed to see you… sir."_

She spread her arms in welcoming question and arched a brow.

"Am I right or am I right?"

He stared in stony silence for a fraction of a second.

"Do you engage in the recreational use of narcotics, Miss Steele?"

She pondered briefly.

"Is Tylenol a narcotic in the street sense of things? Because, if so… then yes."

His hand snaked up to straighten his already poker straight tie. It was his only tell and the reason why he never wore one when he played cards. Sweat was beginning to glisten at his temples and he was in straight up danger of shitting his pants. It was like this woman was sent from the innermost circle of hell to reach deep into his brain and drag his deepest, darkest secrets into a glaring spotlight. For the first time in his life, he wished he'd listened to his mother when she told him he needed to learn how to _breathe._

Before this, breathing had always been instinctual.

Now… he was having a hard time with the whole inhaling and exhaling process.

But he wasn't about to let the grinning wench-of-the-night before him know that.

Throwing her a cold smirk, he leaned back in the chair and oozed condescension.

"I think I've expended more than enough time on this little fantasy of yours. If you want to get spanked or stuffed into a gimp suit, I'm sure that there are websites for that. It's not really my thing so I cannot accommodate you, but I wish you all the luck in the world in securing whatever it is you… require."

Apparently, her smirk could go toe-to-toe with his.

"If that's truly the case, how do you know what a gimp suit is?"

Her voice was sweet and sunny, but it held an undercurrent of deviance.

This time, he didn't miss a beat. Glaring at her, he once again straightened his tie and resisted the temptation to rise from the table and bolt from the room. She could _not_ be allowed to see him sweat. All she had were wildly intuitive suspicions, and wildly intuitive suspicious were defamatory in the wrong hands, and she was clever enough to ensure that she operated with the right hands.

"I've seen Pulp Fiction. I know things."

"Somehow I find it hard to imagine you engaging in _Netflix and Chill_."

"Strange… usually one's imagination is at its most vivid in childhood."

"You're insinuating that I am a child? How _scathing_."

"No. I'm insinuating that you are an unplanned foetus and that I'm Pro-Choice."

Her sudden and sincere laugh took him by surprise. Her face lit up as she chuckled, and a radiance shimmered in her features. For a moment, she wasn't the ball-breaking Anastasia Steele that was making his life hell, she was a completely different and eye-opening beauty. He blinked in confusion. As her mirth subsided and the smooth, sophisticated shell swallowed her whole, he blinked again.

Before coming to the glaringly obvious conclusion.

She was the devil with the face of an angel.

She was _dangerous._

"I'm pretty sure I was a planned prodigy, Mr Grey. But we digress, and this conversation is far too interesting to allow tangents. So, we were discussing your identification as a Dominant and all that goes with it. Would you care to share with the rest of the class how your journey started, or were you simply born the way you are? I'm genuinely curious… and as always, information is the currency of the world. I have plenty of money and now I'm looking to diversify my wealth. I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from."

His jaw slackened as he stared at her in abject disbelief.

Before a tongue of anger caressed his intestines.

"Listen to me and listen closely, Miss Steele," he snapped with an acerbic bite, "Because I am not a man who repeats himself. I am not a _Dominant,_ whatever the hell _that_ is, I am a businessman. Morning, noon and night… I am a businessman and nothing else, I have no interest in anything else. This would be the part where I tell you that my private life is my private life, but here's the rub… I don't _have_ a private life."

He took a deliberately prolonged sip of water.

"What you see with me is what you get, Miss Steele. I am Christian Grey, CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings when I wake up in the morning and I don't stop being Christian Grey, CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings until I go to fucking sleep at night. It's who I am and it's what I do, and I don't have time for anything or anyone other than that. Do you understand?"

She cocked her head to the side, her curled hair spilling over her slim shoulders.

"Is this the part where I say... _yes Sir?"_

He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed like a wounded bull.

"This is the part where you say thanks for the water and take your leave."

"Why the rush, Mr Grey? Do you have somewhere else to be? Is it going to be tough for you to choose between door number one and door number two? Behind door number one, you have submissive Susan… but behind door number two, you have Clark Pearson and access to the kind of hedge fund that would make even your coppery head spin. Decisions, decisions… what's a frustrated billionaire to do?"

Gray exploded into black as his eyes orbed with a sudden and intense anger.

"How the _hell_ do you know about my meeting with Clark Pearson?"

She shrugged with ease.

"That's what I do. I drink. And I know things."

He glared at her in contemptuous confusion and she rolled her eyes to heaven.

His dick twitched.

His palms twitched.

Everything twitched.

"That would have been _much_ funnier if you were a _Game of Thrones_ fan."

"Cut the shit, Steele and tell me how you know about my private fucking meeting."

"Do I miss out on my _Miss_ when you get annoyed? Do you get annoyed easily? Would you say you're quick to anger or a long fuse kind of guy?"

He shook his head in affronted disbelief.

"You are so very keen to pick a war with me," he said softly, his rage blanketing his tone with a velvety hue. "You could have operated silently for another two to three years before you were of a scale to cause me irritation. But you poked the bear well in advance… and I want to know why. What is your _problem?"_

She smiled a smile that was suddenly very cold and very calculated.

"My problem is… that you would never ask me that question if I used the same bathroom facilities that you and every other green-blooded prick in this city utilize."

Confusion bloomed in his features.

" _What?"_

Running her finger up and down her condensation laden glass, she spoke quietly.

"When a man makes a cutthroat move in business, he's an astute operator. When a woman makes a cutthroat move in business, she's a bitch. When a man turns his first million in this city, he's made a name for himself. When a woman turns her first million in this city, the assumption is she _married_ a man who made a name for himself. When a man turns his first billion in this city, he's invited to sit on the echelon of boards and a night is thrown in his honor. When a woman turns her first billion in this city, she gets offered a spread in _Good Housekeeping_ right under a scintillating recipe for lemon meringue pie."

A droplet of water trickled onto her finger and she admired it intently.

"That's what my _problem_ is, Mr Grey. But I am a woman of expediency and I _will_ do my part to buck the trend. Even if the change is a drop in the ocean, even if it's one extra blade of grass in the acre… it's what drives me. So that in twenty or thirty years from now, my daughter can drop a bucket in the ocean and a sew a hundred blades in the acre."

She looked up and eyed him questioningly.

"Does that answer your query?"

To his credit, he took his time in answering.

"Am I supposed to believe that the money and prestige is an unfortunate consequence of your quest to leave this world a better place than you found it? Because I know bullshit when I smell it… and your idealistic notions aren't going to wash with me. You're coming after me because you want what I have, and you want to rule in my stead. But here's a public service announcement that you do _not_ want to tune out of… that is never going to happen. If you want to right the most pressing wrongs of our times, do it somewhere else… with someone else. This state is not your stage, it's mine, and a change of ownership is not on the table."

She didn't bat an eye.

"See… _that_ right there… is how I know you are what you are."

He bristled stiffer than a cactus.

"Miss Steele-"

"Mr Grey, I am not going to be dissuaded. I am not going to be threatened and I am not going to be womanized. So that leaves you in a bit of a pickle, because you don't know any other way to get what you want. Which is why I know things like the time and location of your meeting with Clark Pearson… because you're so busy plotting all the different ways you can think of to destroy me, that you don't know what's going on in your own house."

He gawped.

Gormlessly.

For the first time in his life.

"Are you telling me that there's someone in my organization feeding you sensitive information regarding my business?"

His eyes smoked over and his jaw clenched like a vice.

If there was _one_ thing he could not tolerate… it was disloyalty. He paid his people well, more than well and he let them have autonomy over their work when they'd proven they could handle it and deserved it. The kind of people who knew about his meeting with Clark Pearson were his inner circle, the handful of people he trusted enough to get as close as anyone could, in the professional sense.

Which, of course, was the only sense that mattered.

"Fear engenders a loyalty that is easy to break, Mr Grey."

He breathed deeply.

Before speaking darkly.

"You should know that there are some things I will let go in this life, and there are some things that I will not. Snaking your way into my house and turning my people… that sort of thing falls into the latter category. And to date, I've tolerated you. Even been amused by you. But that's over now, it's done. I will find the person you're pumping information from and fire them before dawn breaks. That's simple… but what I have planned for _you…_ is not so simple. Let it never be said that I don't give fair warning… so consider yourself warned, Miss Steele."

She smiled serenely.

"So, it's an egregious offense to go sniffing around your house but it's perfectly ok for you to send your goon all around town in an inane effort to infiltrate my personal life and gather some non-existent dirt on me that you can use as leverage to strong arm me? Jason Taylor, isn't it?"

His hypocrisy was a hard pill to swallow.

He washed it down with some water and a grimace.

"How do you know about that?"

She shook her head as if dealing with a relatively backwards toddler.

"You're nowhere near as bright as people think, are you?"

He glowered a menacing glower.

"When the big dog asks the puppy a question, the puppy answers."

"You're calling me a dog?"

He smirked.

"Well, I'm quite sure that the _female_ term for a dog is b-"

"Better than you?"

He breathed out deeply. This dinner-turned-meeting had gone about as momentously wrong as it could possibly have gone. He needed to regain control, control is where he flourished, and control was the arena from which he always emerged victorious. Mercifully, she seemed to have moved on from her Dominant theory and he was determined to keep her moving along.

Out the door.

"I think we've said all we have to say to each other, Miss Steele and as you say, I do have a meeting to prepare for and-"

"No, you don't."

His polished exterior slipped and faltered.

"I beg your pardon?"

She took a long and leisurely sip of her water and shrugged casually.

"You don't have a meeting to prepare for. You see, Clark Pearson is like everyone else, he's out for himself. And he likes a sure thing… and apparently, he thinks The Steele Corporation is a sure thing. We signed an agreement two hours ago over a scrummy lunch at the Carlton. We would have invited you, but you were so very rude on the phone beforehand that I thought you mightn't like to spoil your appetite."

The air sliced his windpipe as he stared with a vicious gleam in his eyes.

His voice was silkily soft.

His most deadly and dangerous tone.

"You think I can't land myself another Clark Pearson?"

"Oh, I know you can land yourself another Clark Person. My taking him has nothing to do with money and you know it, and you know that I know it."

He smiled coldly.

"A psychological strike," he mused darkly, "Knock your opponent's confidence."

She grinned.

"I think one would require a bulldozer to knock _your_ confidence, Mr Grey."

He waved a supercilious hand.

"I don't think you're positioned to look down upon those with an ego, Miss Steele."

He was doing a fine job of hiding the blow he was experiencing. Truth was, even he couldn't just go out and shop for another Clark Pearson. Losing him was a serious blow that he couldn't process with the _cat that got the cream_ across the table, grinning at him with that maddening fucking grin. One thing was becoming glaringly obvious… he had completely underestimated the Spawn of Satan that was Miss Anastasia Steele. Staring at her composed and calm expression, he made a deep resolution to himself… she would _never_ one-up him again.

It was time for dinner to come to an end.

An abrupt end.

"Regardless, this meeting has taken up far too much of my time already and I am afraid you'll have to excuse me. Not to be dramatic, but the next time you see me… I won't be as amicable as I am now. You're coming after me, Miss Steele, and unless you change course and change your course quickly, I will be the final nail in the coffin of your playtime company."

He rose and fastened his two-thousand-dollar suit jacket.

She rose with fluidity and tucked her dark hair behind her ear.

He closed his eyes.

She was fucking exquisite.

If only she wasn't such a scheming, ruinous bitch, sent straight from Lucifer's bosom.

"I'd wish I could say it was a pleasure," she murmured, "But…"

He nodded curtly and glanced pointedly at his watch.

"It wasn't."

"No… but at least you have door number one ready and waiting to vent your frustrations. With no Clark Pearson on the books, you're free and footloose to attend to submissive Susan."

He closed his eyes wearily.

His stomach churned unpleasantly.

She was back where she started.

"Change the record, Miss Steele. I'm never going to understand the lyrics."

She shot him a strange look and opened her mouth to say something before promptly closing it and smiling a smile of dismissal. Gathering up her clutch bag, she smoothed down her shiny hair.

"Goodbye, Mr Grey."

His coppery hair tumbled as he gave a sharp nod.

"Miss Steele."

She left without another word, attracting the same admiring glances from men on the way out as she did on the way in. Strangely, this irritated him and as he threw a twenty on the table he knew he needed a release. He was vibrating with supressed rage; his inner cheek was beginning to bleed from biting back his fury. Striding from the dining room with anger blooming ever hotter in his gut, he barrelled his way out into the crisp evening air and threw himself into the back of his town car with a scowl embedding into his forehead. If he didn't blow off serious steam, and fast, he was going to implode.

"To Escala and then a straight turnaround to the club, Taylor. After that, go to the usual hotel and find fucking Georgina and remove her from my suite there and send her irrevocably on her way. Understood?"

Without a word of question or complaint, Jason nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

The car smoothly slid into the bustling traffic and before long, Christian was breathing heavily as scalding hot water attempted to wash away the wounds he had suffered throughout his disastrous dinner plan. His hair turned dark under the gushing stream and his broad shoulders glistened with droplets of his own defeat. He leant his head against the cold tiled wall and closed his eyes. All in all, Miss Steele was kicking his _ass_ and his toned cheeks weren't dealing all that well with her high heels stomping all over them.

He had tasked Taylor with bringing him the rat in his organization before dawn.

That, at least, would give him some satisfaction.

But nothing like the satisfaction he needed.

Craved.

His hair was still damp, artfully so, when he slid back into the car. Without opening his mouth, Taylor set off towards the club, the most select and expensive in town. If you were a member, then you were a big name with very specialized needs, and a very special bank account. He had been a VIP for fifteen months and found the establishment to his liking and his exacting standards. No one knew who owned the place, the Manager was the only point of contact, readily available to those deserving of his time. Anonymity was guarded with a dragon's ferocity and the darkened lighting, coupled with the stiffest NDA known to man, ensured all patrons privacy. When he glanced moodily out of the rain streaked window for the fifth time, they were there.

"I'll call you when I'm ready, have a progress report for me by then."

Never could he be accused of being warm and cuddly, but even Jason was surprised by the tone. Nodding dutifully nonetheless, he spoke softly.

"Yes, Sir."

Dressed in his patented white linen shirt and denim jeans, he ran a hand through his thick hair as he strode to the entrance of the club that didn't look like a club. Rapping sharply on the door, an eye-hole was opened, and the door quickly followed. The two burly bouncers on either side of the entrance sprang to attention, showering him with the respect that he knew he fucking deserved, even if that piss-ant Steele couldn't muster it up.

"Mr Holden," the murmured in unison, "Good evening."

He nodded dismissively as he strode past them.

Everyone had a designated club name, his was Nick Holden, and at that moment… he had never been happier _not_ to be Christian Grey. Trance music played at a muted level as he descended the steps into the basement bar that serviced the clientele. Dark blue booths ran along the walls as he strode along, some had their velvet curtains opened, others had them drawn. Moans emitted from the spacious and self-contained units, a collective vibration of painful ecstasy. He caught a glimpse of some scenes through the opened booths and felt his dick twitch at the sight of brown-haired twenty-something, bent over a whipping horse, her exposed cheeks turning puce under the expert swing of a thick leather belt. Her Dom interspersed the blows by slipping well-practiced fingers into her slick and vibrantly pink sex and tearing breathless pleas for release from her lips.

Christian licked his own lips approvingly.

Orgasm denial had to be one his _favorite_ pastimes.

He ordered a Scotch and turned to continue observing the scene, which he deduced was punishment as opposed to play. His eyes smoked with approval. He was in the mood to dish out some punishment himself, but his most desired recipient was probably laying in bed, counting out _his_ money and priding herself on a job well done.

He closed his eyes.

Usually, he just watched. Save for the rare occasions where someone caught his attentions and were suitable for his needs. Glancing around the bar, there were a few possibilities, but no one jaw dropping. Heads were bent close together, giggles filled the air and suddenly… for the first time in a long, long time… he felt a pang of loneliness. He hadn't had an exclusive sub in quite some time and the lack of a regular release was beginning to take its toll. A bitter taste formed in his mouth as he thought of the reason _why_ he hadn't had an exclusive sub in quite some time.

But all in all, it was a reasonable price to pay to be shot of Elena fucking Lincoln.

He'd just have to find the next one himself.

He was Seattle's most sought-after billionaire; how hard could it possibly be?

He took another sip and appraised the night's pickings more carefully. A disappointed frown marred his face. Blonde, blonde and blonder. The only fucking brunette in the entire place was in the process of _being_ fucked. He turned back to face the bar and brooded moodily. What was the point of being the best thing since sliced bread, if he couldn't get buttered every now and then? What was the use of being the most successful of success stories when the fruits of his labor were universally un-fuckable.

He may be perverse, but he was _never_ going to pay for a bedfellow.

Ever.

The relatively calm air of the club was suddenly interrupted. Fully aware that he was the only patron unoccupied enough to notice the interruption, Christian scowled as the bartender's radio suddenly crackled. He was close enough to hear the conversation, and with nothing or no one better to do, he shamelessly listened in.

"Cameron, the fucking owner is here. First time in months. Make sure everything is pitch perfect or we're all on the line. You have about five minutes, grab some staff from the floor and have the place shining. Make sure the clients, especially the VIP's, are happier than a unicorn on crack, or we're all _fucked."_

Cameron paled harder than a corpse suffering from stage fright.

"Copy that, boss."

With a snap of his fingers, a crew appeared like the fucking Avengers and set about cleaning the bar with a gusto. Christian watched with a raised brow and an amused grin at the fear this owner, whoever he was, inspired in his staff. He respected that. His own employees had a healthy fear of him, but not quite to the same level of mania he was witnessing.

He frowned.

Perhaps if they did, he wouldn't have to fire a turncoat for spilling secrets.

The snap of a well-placed belt and a reciprocal yowl drew his attention away and he glanced over his shoulder. The Dom he had noted earlier was still going hell for leather on his now sobbing sub. The wide leather belt blurred with the speed of its descent, and the crack of its landing pierced his ears. His was the only attention the scene was capturing, and his eyes narrowed with every passing strike. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and ready for… he didn't know what.

But then it came.

Throughout the torn sobbing, an obvious safeword was roared with agony.

 _Mercy._

The Dom stopped for a moment, a split second of indecision, before he brought the belt swinging down upon the bound submissive once more, and then again, and again and again. Her howls of anguish sliced through Christian's heart as he stared with a white-hot poker of rage lancing through his windpipe. For a moment, he stood rigidly, consumed by a shock he had never experienced. His glass fell and smashed to smithereens as he sprang forwards and within an instant, had the son-of-a-bitch in his sights and his grasp. Gripping the bastard's shoulder with an iron grasp, he wrenched him bodily from the shaking sub and wrested the belt from his hands. It fell to the floor with a clunk and continuing his advantage of surprise, he landed a bone-crushing blow to the prick's chin and felt a savage satisfaction as blood spurted from the resulting gash.

Seizing him by the scruff of the neck, he hissed with venom into his face.

"You _bastard,_ she safe worded… you fucking know she did and you carried on… you sick son-of-a-bitch."

The stunned man tried to speak, tried to wrench himself free, but he managed neither. Drawing his fist back, Christian landed another searing punch into the pasty face and felt a warm trickle of blood seep over his hand. Savage satisfaction engulfed him as he winded the vermin with ease, compressing his portly stomach with blow after blow. Before he could carry on, a hand seized his shoulder and hoisted him backwards.

Their commotion was no longer going unnoticed.

Snarling, he tried to pull himself free, but the bouncers were straight-up stronger than he was on even his best day. The abusive "Dom" was pulled to his feet and hauled from the booth, screaming bloodied obscenities as he went, and the curtain was sharply pulled as staff tended to the still sobbing sub. The lights were switched on and the atmosphere was shot to hell as people emerged from booths in varying stages of undress and identical scowls of frustration. Wrenching himself free from the well-intentioned bouncers, Christian held up a hand to say he wasn't out to cause any further trouble. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he heard the nerves in one of the bouncer's voice.

" _The fucking owner is here, look sharp."_

The general murmur of voices grew as Christian looked around for this magic fucking owner that seemed to inspire the fear of god into all under his employ. He had a choice few words for him about the kind of _scum_ he allowed into his premises and a subscription he needed to resign. It would be a cold day in hell before he returned to the kind of place that allowed a sub to be abused on its premises, because they didn't vet their fucking customers properly. He bristled with temper as he replayed the sub's ignored safeword. That was the crème de la crème of _no fucking go_ in their world. It was the most egregious and despicable betrayal of trust imaginable.

"Tell the fucking owner of this hellhole that I want a word," he spat to a passing and haggard looking Cameron, "And I want a word _now._ Not in a minute, not tomorrow… right fucking now."

Nodding without a word of complaint, the bartender scampered off.

Christian had his head in his hands, nursing a killer migraine and trying to ignore all the ogling stares, when he returned. Hearing his approach, he looked up with a scowl and suddenly felt his world stop and his heart seize as one. His eyes grew wide and he took an instinctive step back in complete and utter shock. Cameron viewed his reaction in confusion, but the owner showed no similar befuddlement. In fact, the owner seemed to find Christian's complete and utter amazement downright hilarious.

"Mr Holden, is it? I'm told you have urgent business to discuss with me."

He gawped like a drugged-up, recently disavowed Monk, before managing the sensibility to murmur a weak response.

"Miss _Steele?"_

….

TBC

….


	6. Chapter 6

"Yes, Mr Holden, that's me. Again, I am told you have pressing business to discuss with me? Cameron here was quite insistent that I drag myself out to meet a disgruntled patron as quickly as possible. So, what seems to be the problem?"

She smiled sweetly.

"Bad day, is that it?"

His senses were slowly returning to him as he dragged his jaw up off the floor. The muggy picture that had been hanging over him since their meeting was clearing up with a glazier's finish. Things were beginning to make sense; the pieces were beginning to fall into place. Why she seemed to see through him, why she knew what he was, _how_ she knew what he was. She was in the lifestyle. She _owned_ a facet of the lifestyle and not only that, it was the best fucking facet in town. His mouth dried as it set into a sour line of discontent, masking a grudging sense of respect.

This fucking infant was running rings around him.

And here, in the inner sanctum of his deviant domain, she had checkmated him.

For all and sundry to see.

His screamingly sinister look had the desired effect. Cameron paled and looked sideways for permission, before backing away slowly when she gave him a curtly dismissive nod. They were alone now, the remaining patrons boring of the sideshow and returning to their own, much more pleasurable, exploits. The dim lighting returned, and they were shrouded with the semi-darkness, standing nose-to-nose, toe-to-toe. He snarled in a deep breath, a sense of panic threatening to snuff out his intellectual superiority.

That could not be allowed to happen.

He controlled himself, slipped back into his mogul persona with a flourish.

"I see you're not as concerned with your public image as a standard CEO?"

Her teeth were even and white in the low light.

"Surely, Mr Grey, even you ought to have realized by now… that I am _not_ standard, in all things?"

"You certainly excel in humility and modesty," he snapped sarcastically, before schooling himself. "But, really, is this the kind of soundbite you want published? You've manipulated the media into painting you as the poster child of the American dream. How do you think your double life is going to go down over a sunny Seattle morning? I can just see it now, I can just _hear_ the murmurings… business prodigy Anastasia Steele… living a double life… whips her investors into a frenzy…."

She took a step closer and he resisted the urge to take a step back.

"Do you see any reporters in here, Mr Grey? Because, I don't, and the only person in this room who would have a reason to go running to the press about me, is you. Now, if that happens, I am clever enough to spin this into a positive PR experience. I'll peddle some bullshit about being raised in an open and communicative home, and how that idyllic childhood set me up with an oozingly open mind. How I used that open mind to cater for the misunderstood in my community. How I ensured that said patrons had a safe and secure environment in which to release, their so often misunderstood, sexual needs. How I hoped, that in doing so, I would reduce the number of criminal assault cases that pop up through the practice of unsafe scening. How I know so little of the world of BDSM, but how I was compelled to act, to help, nonetheless. How I rest at night, safe in the knowledge that my establishment has helped so many high-powered Seattle social elite… release their demons… and salve their souls of their desires…"

His mouth was in danger of falling open again.

A lightbulb erupted in his brain.

"How long have you known that I was a member here?"

She grinned, a smile that set her whole face on fire.

"Now," she breathed, "Now you're catching on, I knew there was a brain in there somewhere… underneath all that _hair…"_ She eyed him speculatively. "Speaking of which, when was the last time you visited a barber? You look like one of the chipmunks with your mop like that."

He shook his head slowly, ignoring her bait.

"You're new. You weren't the owner when I signed up here. But you are now, and your staff are terrified of you which means you bought this place as a means to an end, not as a long-term investment. They're scared shitless that you're going to pump and dump this place, bleed it out and sell it for parts on the dollar. You… fuck me… you bought this place after my first offer to buy your company… this is your fucking insurance policy, isn't it?"

To the dulcet tones of trance music in the background, she tipped her head to the side.

"Brains and beauty… you are quite the package, Mr Grey… for some women."

He zeroed in on her, his eyes burning into her slender face.

"You're one hell of a cutthroat bitch, Miss Steele."

She shrugged, not an ounce of regret or remorse in her posture.

"Like I told you," she murmured, in an almost bored voice. "I don't constrain myself to playing the demure businesswomen. I came here to dominate, and that's what I'm going to do. You are an obstacle, an intractable obstacle, and I needed a way around you. And this," she threw her arms open to the club as a whole, "This was my end around. It's amazing how little confidentiality means to a burnt-out business owner when there's a freshly minted stack of green sitting on his desk."

He swallowed a dry swallow.

"If you were going to out me, you would've done it by now."

Blue eyes swivelled to his.

"Out you? Mr Grey, contrary to popular belief, I don't think there's anything wrong with a consenting adult exploring their sexuality to the limits of their being. I would never use your desires against you in an offensive strike. That's not my style. This club is defence, not offense. If I have to, as a matter of last and protective resort, use it… then I will. But I certainly won't be running to the press in the morning with my client list, with a big fat red circle around your name. Personally, I am not into this lifestyle, my tastes are a little more… traditional, but I don't think they're anything to be ashamed of, either, and it pisses me off that we live in a fishbowl where your base needs are cause for such cloak and dagger bullshit."

Once again, his jaw hit the floor.

He scooped it back up, hoping to utter something cutting and cunning.

But that's not what came out.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She stared slightly, before shrugging her slim shoulders.

"Why not."

A different barman materialized from smoke as they slid onto the red velvet barstools. He paled when he saw Anastasia, but did his level best to maintain composure. Christian ordered an Armagnac and raised a brow in the direction of a menu studying Ana. Glancing up, she ordered a dry white wine and tapped her long and slender fingers on the bar countertop.

"What is it?" she asked curiously as Christian stared into his delivered drink.

"Nothing," he muttered, "It's just… this is… no one has ever been privy to my personal life before and the last person in the world that I wanted to buck that trend is you. You say you're not going to use it against me, but it's the perfect bargaining chip and one day, you're going to vying with me for some merger or some acquisition and you're going to realize it's a card you can't afford not to play. I've worked extremely hard to separate the personal from the professional, Miss Steele, and to have that work and reputation resting in the hands of another, of someone who despises me, isn't something that makes for a restful night's sleep."

Silence spiralled between the two moguls.

Until, after a thoughtful pause, she broke it.

"I don't despise you."

He snorted into his drink, shooting her a wry look.

"Don't spare my feelings now, Miss Steele, not when you've done a fine job of tearing them apart."

"And you're an innocent angel?" she sparred, "Look, we're both driven people. I've admired your empire for a long time, watched your work, studied your style. I know you eat, breathe and sleep Grey Enterprises Holdings. I know it's your life. But… The Steele Corporation is my life. It's my baby, my first born. I was just doing what any mother would do when her child is threatened or threatened to be threatened… I protected it. Seattle is my home and therefore, it's the home of my child and your spotty teenager is making it very difficult for my baby to grow here."

He couldn't help but smile at the analogy.

"Well my spotty fucking teenager was here first."

She grinned and shrugged in tandem.

"Well maybe it's time that he fucked off to college?"

Rolling his eyes, he threw down his drink and ordered another for both of them.

"Maybe so, but it'll be Harvard if he does, not some second-rate shithole… like Yale."

"That's so sweet," she jabbed, "And it's amazing that you gained such a grasp on what Harvard is all about during your five minutes there."

He glared.

"Some people are faster learners than others."

She glared.

"Some people are faster quitters than others."

They stared at each other with narrowing eyes, before mutually acceding to the other's point and throwing back some much-needed alcohol. Silence settled between them once more as each became lost to their inner monologues. His fingers stroked the side of his glass, his brow furrowed in contemplation. This was not what he had planned for the night. He had come here to forget all about the intractable Miss Steele and yet, he had ended up side by fucking side with her, with all his dirty laundry in her basket.

"Where do we go from here, then?" he suddenly asked. "What now?"

She glanced to the side and raised a brow.

"What now?"

"Don't be coy, Miss Steele. You're holding a smoking gun. People can only hold one of those for so long before their palms start to twitch, and their trigger fingers starts to tighten. I believe you don't intend to share with the world my… private pastimes, but I'm not the kind of man who can sleep at night knowing that that's even an option. So, cutting straight down to brass tacks, the question is this… what do you want from me? What is it going to take to keep your mouth and your trigger finger silent?"

She shot him a disapproving glare.

"I gave you my word that my buying this club was about leverage. It's also a solid and shrewd business decision, this place is a money magnet. You were spending all your time in your ivory tower thinking about ways to destroy me, sending your goons to dig up my past. I needed a sense of comfort, a security blanket. That's all this is, all this place represents. My word is my bond, Mr Grey, and if I'm giving it to you… you better believe you can put it in the bank and rest easy at night."

He thawed.

A little.

"But GEH is still an obstacle to TSC, and if you think that I'm going to shut up shop to make room for you, despite what you have the capability to do, you're sorely mistaken."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"I didn't think you would."

"Then, I'll ask you again, where do we go from here?"

She studied him, full in the face, for an inordinate amount of time. He stared back at her without blinking, without breaking eye contact and a slow trickle of self-awareness started to fester within him. A part of the rage he had harboured for her, a part of the exasperation she engendered in him… had nothing to do with business, had nothing to do with the professional and everything to do with the personal. She outsmarted and outwitted him on a daily basis, she was his female equivalent and equal… and she was… refreshing.

She didn't bend her will to his, not even a fucking fraction.

And… it was novel.

He cleared his mind and throat as she spoke quietly, sincerity in her tone.

"We make a pact, an agreement, binding in honor."

He raised a brow.

"And how do you know that I'm an honorable man?"

She smiled a sly, yet sweet, smile.

"The same way I knew you were a dominant man, a Dominant in life. I know how to read people and I'm far more-worldly than I seem. I didn't stumble across this place by taking a wrong turn home one night. I told you, I studied you from afar for a long time. I examined how and why you make your decisions, I educated myself on what influences and drives you. You are a ruthless man, but you are an honorable man and if you give me your true word, I will act accordingly upon it."

Respect, a little less grudging, bloomed inside him.

"That's a lot of knowledge for a little lady."

She flashed a grin at him.

"And how do you know that I'm a lady?"

His laugh caught him by surprise. Nodding in defeat, he raised a brow.

"Fair point, well made, Miss Steele. So what's this pact then?"

She sobered and took a small sip of her wine.

"That from this day onwards, it's all about the business. No personal shit, no leverage or digging up the past, dragging skeletons out of closets. You grow GEH and I'll grow TSC. There's only enough room here for one of us, you know it and I know it. But let's make it a fair fight, let's make it that the better business and businessperson wins. Period. You keep out of my personal life and I'll keep out of yours. The balance sheet tells all. There's probably only enough work in this city to keep both of us going for one more year. At the end of the next fiscal year, our accountants will hold the answers. A clean, fair fight. Grey Enterprises Holdings against The Steele Corporation, nothing more and nothing less."

He said nothing for an interminable moment, working her proposition through the cogs of his mind.

She waited patiently, calm and composed as she ever had been.

He eventually spoke softly, weighting the deal on the tip of his tongue.

"Steele v Grey?"

She tipped her head to the side, smiling softly and nodded.

"Steele v Grey."

He ran a hand through his hair in contemplation.

"All about the business. No personal or underhanded shit?"

She nodded her head firmly.

"None."

Extending his hand before he knew what he was doing and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, he felt relief when she firmly reciprocated his binding handshake. He had underestimated her, that much was clear to him now. He would not make the same mistake again. In three-hundred-and-sixty-five days, one of them would be leaving town and he sure as shit wasn't about to let GEH be the emigrant. It would take blood, sweat and tears, but he was determined to blow TSC out of the water in a game of firmest rules and professional boundaries. As he looked into her determined face, he knew she was thinking the exact same thing and felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It would be an interesting battle of wits, that was for sure.

Before he could hold them back, words had slipped like an eel from his lips.

"What do you say to consummating our agreement over a proper dinner, Miss Steele?"

Her eyes flashed with blue amusement as she nodded in slow agreement.

"I say that that would be most acceptable, Mr Grey. As long as you heed one unbreakable rule."

His eyes flashed with gray amusement as he raised a questioning brow.

"You know," he murmured dryly, "I've been known to love a few rules, but I usually set them. But, allow me to humor you and ask, what rule might that be?"

She swung her slender legs from the bar stool and pressed her warm body against his, leaning up to whisper in his ear, sending a wave of sudden and unexpected electricity surging through him, shrieking with sparks of sudden desire.

"That our agreement is the _only_ thing that we'll be consummating."

…

A/N: Fin! Decided to leave this one here and to your imagination! I wanted to do a fic where Ana doesn't accede to Christian's demands and doesn't compromise! Hence the pact they made and the "decide your own ending", ending. Hope you enjoyed, this was a fun write.

Thank you so much for everything on this story.

Till next time,

Inks!

Xx

…


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